Well: That’s Just Inconvenient!

My wife Suzie has a particular look she reserves for my more idiotic ramblings. I noticed the look developing as I started to discuss the tax implications of my engaged daughter’s announcement for a possible wedding date. I’ve been married a long time and have developed a survival instinct. I closed my mouth and decided to listen with rapt attention as my daughter and future son-in-law explained their reasoning for the possible date for the big day…apparently February flowers are delightful.

It was lovely my London-based daughter and fiancé managed to get time off work over the holidays and flew back to Ireland, joining us for Christmas dinner. But I have to say, the suggested wedding date—February 2027—is rather inconvenient. I’m going to walk my wife Suzie through this, but I thought I’d start with you, dear readers.

For some random, unknown reason—possibly involving medieval sheep farmers and the Julian calendar—the UK tax year starts on the 5th of April. Yes, April. Not January 1st like sensible countries. I’d had the idea in my mind that 2027 would be the wedding year and had prepared my finances accordingly. Bumping myself up against a tax threshold before the end of March 2026 and doing so again for March 2027, resulting in enough free cash flow at a lower tax rate to pay for the wedding.

Now my tax plans are in tatters because of the rather inconvenient wedding timing smack bang in the middle of the two tax years I was optimizing for. I’m sure you can see my problem. I’ve even got my argument ready for Suzie:

“Now, Suzie, darling, don’t give me that look. Just hear me out. It’s a matter of basic arithmetic and the peculiar stubbornness of the tax authorities.

You see, if the kids would simply push the ‘I dos’ back by a mere eight weeks—to, say, the twelfth of April—we’d be operating in a state of financial grace! By February, I’m still trapped in the 2026/27 tax envelope. I’ll have already squeezed every drop of liquidity out of my personal allowance. To get the ‘Wedding Cake Fund’ over the line in February, I’d have to start raiding the 40% tax bracket. We’d essentially be paying the government a ‘procrastination tax’ just so they can wear white in the snow!

If they marry in February, we’re paying for the champagne with ‘expensive’ money. If they marry in April, we’re paying for it with ‘optimized’ money. It’s the difference between a vintage Moët and a very respectable Cava, Suzie! I’m not being a miser; I’m being a strategist. I’m trying to ensure our daughter’s future is built on a foundation of sound fiscal timing, rather than the whims of a calendar that hasn’t been updated since the Romans left!”

Wish me luck. We haven’t even got to sorting the wedding venue or the family politics of seating arrangements, never mind the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses! I think I need to go sit in a dark corner and meditate for the next 14 months.

The lesson, I suppose, is that financial optimization is a beautiful thing right up until the moment you try to optimize your daughter’s wedding around it. I’ve built elaborate tax strategies, rebalanced portfolios, and squeezed every allowance dry. But suggesting we reschedule true love for a favorable tax year? Even I’m not that far gone.

Though I will note, for the record, that April really is a lovely time for a wedding. Blossoms. Birdsong. A fresh new tax year.

I’m just saying.